From: "Jessica Thompson" <mrsmulder_86@hotmail.com>
Date: Wed, 23 Jul 2003 22:30:01 +0000
Subject: a lot to ask
Source: direct

Title: A lot to ask
Author: JayJay
Email: MrsMulder_86@hotmail.com
Rating: PG-13
Feedback: Yes
Spoilers: Per Manum, tiny one for Home
Disclaimer: not mine.
Classification: VRA
Keywords: missing scenes
Summery: I stare at her dumbfounded, her words still ringing in my
ears. 'I want my child to have a father' she had whispered her voice
soft and almost shy, totally un- Scully-like, 'I want that father to
be you."
Notes: I feel the need to warn you that this does contain references
to child abuse. There are no specific situations described, and it is
only mentioned by one character thinking about past experiences. But I
will tell you again there are NO DESCRIPTIONS!

* * * * * * * * * *
A LOT TO ASK
* * * * * * * * * *

"I know this is a lot to ask," she whispers gazing down at the table,
studying the remnants of her barely-touched salad. I stare at her
dumbfounded; her words still ringing in my ears. 'I want my child to
have a father' she had whispered her voice soft and almost shy,
totally un-Scully-like, 'I want that father to be you."

It was such a simple statement; so direct that it shocked me. She
wants this of me; she wants me to be the father of her child, I'm
having trouble trying to comprehend that fact. I just stare at the
tiny redhead seated opposite me, my mouth gaping open. I try to make
myself form some sort of answer... any sort of answer.

She looks up, and deep into my eyes, as if trying to read my
expression.  Her deep cerulean eyes are brimming with hope and
vulnerability. She is unnerved by my silence. I can see the fear in
her face. Fear that she has made a terrible mistake. Her expression is
pleading with me not to turn her down.

I let out a long dazed breath that I hadn't noticed I was holding.
She's still fighting her tears and looks back down at the table,
avoiding my eyes and sighs lightly.

"I'm sorry," she whispers her voice shaking slightly. This shocks me;
this is not the strong independent Scully I know. She is trying
desperately to maintain her composure, to put on a brave face for me.
"I had no right to ask this of you." She glances up at me briefly as
she reaches for her purse. "I should go."

She begins to rise from her seat, holding back the tears I know are
threatening to fall. She is avoiding my eye contact. I don't know what
to say. I only know that I have to say something.

I reach out across the table, laying my hand upon hers, where it rests
lightly against the crisp white linen of the tablecloth. Her gaze
locks with mine; I can see the embarrassment and the fear shining
through her brave façade.

She is hurt. I never meant to hurt her.

"No, I should be the one who's sorry," I murmur, smiling weakly at her
"It's just that this is a lot to take in."

She smiles; the understanding evident in her expression. "I know," she
sighs softly "It's just..." she trails off losing her train of
thought. Brushing a strand of titian hair away from her eyes and
tucking it nervously behind her ear.

"Won't you at least consider it?" she pleads softly.

I pull back slightly. She thought I was saying no. I don't know how to
make her understand that this is the most amazing thing I have ever
been asked to do.  She wants me to be a father, a father to her child.
She's offering me everything I never new I always wanted. I'd given up
on all this, given up on a family a very long time ago.

Her eyes are so wide and vulnerable as she waits for my reply. Waiting
for relief or despair. My gaze locks with hers, and for a moment I
allow myself to sink deep into her clear bottomless depths; to lose
myself within her soul. The corners of her mouth turn up slightly, as
she timidly attempts to feign a smile.

After a long moment I allow myself to answer. "Do you even have to
ask?" I whisper tenderly. She shakes her head gently and sighs with
relief, but the pained expression that fills her face does not
completely dissipate.

"Mulder, I don't want you to feel obligated...." I immediately bring
my gaze to her eyes, smiling softly. Silencing the words that we both
know are not unnecessary.

"I don't," I whisper truthfully. She nods, her expression settling
slightly.  Seemingly reassured. "I just need some time to take all
this in. This isn't something I want to step into lightly, and to be
honest it's a little overwhelming."

She nods "I'm sorry." She states softly.

"Stop apologizing," I scald, flashing her a sardonic smile. She beams
back at me her whole face lighting up, the sight of it taking my
breath away. I feel the emotion welling within me; I can't believe
that she wants me to do this with her.

I sigh, my eyes locked with hers, unable to turn my gaze elsewhere.
"You don't know what this means to me!" I state, suddenly finding that
I am fighting back some tears of my own.

She nods again, a single tear rolling down her cheek. I reach up to
wipe it away, her eyelids flutter closed momentarily at my touch, and
she tilts her cheek into my hand.

I gaze at her, and for the hundredth time in these last few minutes,
her beauty astounds me. Her pale skin almost appears to shimmer and
her vibrant titian hair glows magically in the restaurants muted
light. The pale light dances lightly over her eyelids, which remain
closed in response to my gentle touch as I caress her soft cheek. She
seems smaller and more vulnerable than usual. I want nothing more than
to enfold my beautiful partner in my arms. To shield her from all the
horrors we both know all to well that this world contains.

For a few beautiful moments I want nothing more than her.

After a long moment she pulls away, reaching swiftly for her bag and
coat. I notice that her gaze and manner have lost the vulnerability
they were filled with earlier. Calm professional Scully is back in
control. This is her defence mechanism;  the walls go up when she
feels that she's let me get too close.

She stands and shrugs her dainty arms into her coat. She looks down at
me, with a matter of fact expression on her face as she says, "I'm
going to go, give you some time to think."

I nod as she turns towards the door and begins to walk away. As I
watch her go I have the overwhelming desire to call her back. I have
something I have to say before it happens.

Before I say yes, and everything changes or I say no and nothing stays
the same.

"Scully," I call after her retreating form. She stops and turns to
meet my gaze. I stare openly into those amazing blue eyes. Sinking
further and further into the intricate and complex depths of her
beautiful soul. She raises an eyebrow at me quizzically, and I smile
softly in return.

"Thank-you." I whisper shyly but sincerely. I feel the blush grazing
my cheeks and she smiles before turning and walking away.

* * * * *

I sit, unmoving at my desk in the office. Staring almost blindly at my
'I want to believe poster', as I process what she has just asked me. I
came here strait from the restaurant, this is the only place I can
ever truly focus on something this incredibly monumental. This place
feels like home, our home.

"I want my child to have a father, I want that father to be you."
Those words resounded through my brain over and over again. I was
unable to focus on anything other than my partners' request.

I can't believe she wants me to do this with her.

"I know this is a lot to ask," she had said, how can that be true? All
she's asking me to do is jerk off in a cup. It's not exactly hard is
it? She needs a donation, something that as a forty-year-old bachelor
I am more than qualified to provide.

But what comes next?

That depends on what she means by father. She never specified what she
expected of me. Does she want me to be no more than a donor, her
child's father in no other way than biologically? Does she want me to
pass on the Mulder families' genetic muster and then to leave her to
be a single mom? Or does she want the doting daddy?  Does she want the
school-runs, the birthday parties, and the parent teacher conferences?
Does she want the whole nine yards?

Will she expect me to be the kind of father to this child that her
father was to her? Because I just don't think I can be. I was never
privileged enough to experience that kind of parental love. My father
was never like that. I've never had that relationship to learn from. I
hate to admit it but I have no idea how a good father behaves, so how
can I possibly aim to be one?

I despised my father. I grew up in fear, in fear of provoking him.

My father was an angry man who was unable to control his temper. In
many ways I am very much like him. I too find it difficult to control
my temper when I'm riled. What if I'm exactly like him, even when it
comes to fatherhood?

What if my child has to live in fear of me?

That thought scares me more than anything else in this world. Aliens,
fluke men, and liver-eating mutants I can cope with; but a man who can
cause as much damage, to someone they claim to love unconditionally,
as my father caused to me? That is more than I can stand.

I vowed to myself, when I was no more than thirteen years old that I
would never do that to someone I loved. I promised myself that no
child of mine would ever experience that. I promised myself that I
would never bring a child into this world unless I was one hundred
percent sure that I would not be like him.

But can I ever be certain?

Maybe my experiences a child will mean that I have a chance to learn
to control my temper. I know what it is like to be the child in that
situation. I know the pain that those actions can cause. I know all to
well, that pain doesn't fade along with the bruises. I know how
important it is to feel loved. Maybe my experiences can give me the
incentive to be the sort of father I never had.

Maybe I can learn how to be the sort of father to our child that
Scully's father was to her.

I have to remember that my child will also have the mother that I
never had, my child will have Scully. I have known for so long that
she would make a wonderful Mom if she were ever given the chance.
She's strong. So much stronger than my mother ever was; even before my
father wore down what little resolve she had left. She would never
allow me to do what he did. She would never allow herself to turn a
blind eye to any form of abuse to her child.

She wouldn't allow me to be him any more than I would allow myself to
be.

I could do this with her support, of that I can be sure. Scully makes
me strong; she challenges me to be a better man than I am. She is the
only woman I would ever even consider having children with.

She is the only woman I will ever love.

And this is her last chance to have a child. This is our last chance.

She wants a baby more than anything. That I have known for such a long
time that it pains me to think that she may never have the opportunity
to become a mother.

I have wanted to give her that chance for so long. That is why I
didn't hesitate to fly out to San Diego on Christmas day to speak for
her at the adoption hearing.  I wanted so badly to help her adopt
Emily; I think that I was just as devastated as she was when it
happened. I grieved for Emily's loss alongside my partner. I may have
only known her for a few days but I loved her from the moment I laid
eyes on her. She was so obviously Scully's daughter that I could not
fail to fall head over heels for her, because I could learn to love
anything that was a part of Scully.

Comforting her after the death of the child she had never been given
the opportunity to know, I felt helpless. She believed that she had
lost her last chance at motherhood. And knowing there was nothing I
could do help her was killing me. At that moment I considered telling
her about the ova I had found. I knew she had a right to know. But I
couldn't do it. I believed they were not viable, and I couldn't bear
to raise her hopes only to dash them away.

So I stayed silent. Had I known then what I know now, that there's
even the smallest chance I would have told her in a heartbeat. I
wanted so badly to give her a chance.

Now three years later she's giving me the opportunity to do just that.
She's asking me to help her. Something I should be able to do in a
heartbeat; something that shouldn't require this amount of
consideration. This is something that deep down I want as much as she
does.

But I'm afraid.

Not of losing my bachelorhood, of losing my freedom, the lifestyle I
now have. Not of losing the X-Files, not now that I have accomplished
what set out to achieve; finding Samantha. I'm not even afraid of
intimacy. Even though Scully has not made any mention of the
relationship between she and I after the IVF, I know what she will
hope for. If she wants it all, which deep down I do not doubt she
does;  she'll want that more personal relationship that we've been
taking those tiny baby steps towards for the last seven years. She'll
want marriage, and of that I'm not afraid. I don't even think I'm
afraid of becoming a father.

But I am afraid of becoming my father.

I have no idea how to tell her. I need to talk to her about this. That
way at least I'll know that if I decide to say no, she'll understand.

I know she wanted to give me time to think about this, about the
implications of this. But I think this is something I need to discuss
with her before making a decision.

Before I know what I'm doing the phone receiver is in my hand, her
number already dialled. I don't even glance at the clock, there's no
need. She never seems to object to my late night phone calls; I think
she knows how important it is to know that she's there when I need
her.

Mere moments pass before she picks up the phone. It's as though she
were expecting my call.

"Mulder, what's wrong?" She asks, her voice in no way groggy. I can
tell immediately that I'm not the only one having a sleepless night. I
smile in some ways it seems as though Scully and I are connected. That
we have some kind of Nexus. She knew before I even said a word that it
was me who was calling.

"Nothing, Scully," I whisper, running my hands through my already
dishevelled hair. "I just need to ask you something,"

There is a long pause; I can tell that she's trying to psychoanalyse
me.  Trying to work out what I could possibly want to ask her. I know
she's afraid that I'm going to tell her that I can't do what she
wants. That I can't father her child. I know her too well not to know
that she's already decided that I'm going to turn her down. I know
that she won't allow herself to believe.

But then who am I to talk? Neither will I.

I take a deep breath, trying to summon up the courage to ask her. But
I know she'll understand. She won't be able to just answer; she'll try
to reassure me.  Maybe that's what I need, reassurance from her. I may
not be able to believe in myself, but she is the one person in my life
I know I can trust. Maybe, just maybe I can believe in her.

"I need to know, Scully," I feel almost humiliated. This is one of the
most personal things I have ever asked her. She knows about my past,
about my childhood.  But only through medical records, through friends
of my parents, through the gunmen.  It's the one thing I have never
allowed myself to discuss with her, because I don't want her pity.

I don't want her to look at me as any less of a man.

But from the moment she made that request, earlier today. From the
moment those words escaped her lips. I knew this situation was
unavoidable.  'I want that father to be you', those words had done so
much more than she knew. They opened the lid of a proverbial can of
worms that I had kept tightly shut for almost twenty years. A lid that
once opened, would never truly close again.

That's why I have to ask.

"Would you..." the words catch in my throat, as though as reluctant to
leave, as I am to make them.  "Would you trust me to be alone with
your child?"

There's a long pause. She's deathly silent; I can no longer even hear
her breathe. She's shocked. I have no idea what she thought I was
going to ask her, but I know that was not it.

"Mulder," she whispers, I can hear the tears in her voice. She doesn't
want to acknowledge this problem any more than I do. "What kind of a
question is that?"

"One I need to know the answer to," I whisper, my voice barely
audible. "I need to know, Scully."

She sighs lightly, her breath shaking. I can imagine her expression
perfectly. Her perfect features drawn into a look of complete
devastation laced with pity.  Her beautiful eyes, normally so deep and
clear, now obscured by the brimming tears she will not allow to fall.
The vision of it even in my own mind pains me.

"Yes, Mulder," She whispers " I would trust with the life of any
little person that came along, in exactly the same way I trust you
with mine!" Her voice is quiet yet somehow commanding. I can tell that
she is one hundred percent sure of what she in saying.

She believes in me. That revelation gives even the smallest part of me
hope.  I continue to gaze at the poster for a long moment. I realise
that I never truly understood the meaning of that phrase until now. 'I
want to believe' it had meant nothing to me before, because generally
I'll believe anything. Suddenly I knew; I wanted more than anything to
believe that I could do this, that I could be the kind of father she
wants me to be.

The kind of father I never had.

I want to believe.

"Mulder?" she calls gently, dragging me from my reverie. "Mulder
you're not your father." I let out a deep breath that I hadn't
realised I was holding at her words. She had done it, she had gotten
right to the bottom of the issue. She knows me so well that at times
it scares me. At times like this.

"You're a good man," she whispers her voice softer, but still
maintaining its firmness. "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't know you
could do it."

I find that I am fighting back tears. Tears of relief that she
believes in me, but also of sorrow for the childhood I lost at his
hand. There's no time to be a child in a situation like that, I had to
grow up pretty fast, just in order to survive. He stole so much from
me. Now it would appear he took not just my childhood but also my
future.  It's because of him that I may never be able to have the one
thing I have always longed for, a family.

She takes in a deep breath. The sound of it is heavenly. I long to
reach out and take her in my arms. To allow her comfort me, to
reassure me, to love me. I long for it with every fibre of my being.

I long for her.

"Mulder, You'd make a wonderful father." My breath catches in my
throat at her words, and a tear rolls down my cheek. I sit dumfounded
by her words. I am unable to move, to think or even to breathe.

"Do you want to come over?" she whispers.

I think carefully for a moment. Am I ready to make this kind of
decision?  Will I ever be?

It seems as though before I've even made my decision, the words have
already escaped my lips. "Give me twenty minutes," the words sound
distant almost alien to me. But something in them is comforting; I'm
going home because my home is wherever she is.

A moment later I hear the gentle click as she gently replaces the
phone into its cradle.

I turn the chair around again and continue to stare at my poster.
There are so many reasons why I shouldn't do this; so many cons that
outweigh the pros. But there's only one reason that really matters to
me it is what she wants. I can't deny her the opportunity to at least
try.

And were I to remove all my doubts, all my nagging concerns, then
nothing would hold me back. Because deep down I want this as much a
she does.

I stand up and shrug my arms into my trench coat and begin to head
towards my car. I have to do this. My father may have ruined my
childhood but I will not allow him to deny Scully and I of the chance
to have a family. Life is for living.

I've spent my entire adult life taking risks. To be honest there have
been few I regret. Maybe I should take that as a sign. Maybe this is
another risk I should take. And even if it doesn't go the way I
thought, at least I'll have something to show for it. I'll have a
child.

And more importantly, so will she.

Maybe she's right; maybe this is 'a lot to ask.' But I can do this; I
have to, because I don't know if I could ever forgive myself for
letting the opportunity pass us by.

I will work at being the kind of father I never had. The kind of
father she will expect me to be. I'll do it all. I'll do the whole
nine yards.

I'll do it not just for Scully. Not just for whatever little person
were to come along nine months down the line. But the little boy I
once was, the innocent child with his whole life before him. The boy I
was before my father began to drink.

I'll do it because I want this more than anything. "I want my child to
have a father, I want that father to be you," little does she know
that so do I.

Little does she know that despite my doubts, my fears, I wouldn't have
it any other way.

* * * * End